Oh training camp. Should I just leave it at that? There is so much to write about and so little patience for me to draw upon; I don't really have the tenacity for writing and writing well, but oh well.
It started to get really surreal when I first walked into the atrium in the Atlanta airport. I saw faces that I recognized from a computer screen, but now these faces had more than just one expression, and they had voices and different mannerisms. The still images I had known from blogs and Facebook were now real people, and we were all about to get to know each other really well.
The 55 of us would soon face difficult times that would quickly bring us closer together as brothers and sisters. The most challenging event I experienced was with my brothers.
I should say at this point that if you are going on the World Race, and you have not yet been to training camp, that you should stop reading. You probably won't, but know that your training camp experience will be better if you don't know everything that happens in advance.
It was time for the men to take off into the woods and for the woman to go their own way. We were instructed to each grab a log of fire wood before heading to who knows where.
After walking a little ways, we stopped and sat down to talk about what our responsibilities as men looked like, and how we needed to protect the woman. I found that I was somewhat distracted from the man talk, wondering what the wood we were carry was for.
After the conversation concluded, we made our way one squad at a time down the trail, allowing big gaps between the groups.
It was clear that we were nearing a lake, and as we got closer I could hear shouting and cheering. I soon could make out some kayaks in the water.
When our squad got to the body of water our objective was made clear: swim to the other side of the lake while holding your piece of fire wood out of the water. The other squads had already completed the challenge, and it was now our turn.
Honestly I wasn't too nervous about it. We all had the mentality of "we got this," and to be fair a lot of the guys "did have it." I would soon find out that I wasn't one of those guys.
I am confident in my athletic abilities. I've pushed myself—and have been pushed hard—in the past through sports and other physically demanding things. But none of that mattered apparently.
We all jumped into the refreshing lake and began swimming on our backs, pieces of wood lifted high. Maybe a tenth of the way across I began to realize that I wasn't doing well. It seemed that everything that I had learned in swimming lessons when I was younger was now evading my memory. I began to sink.
As I kept—or tried to keep—my log above the lake, I began to drink more and more water. I finally calmly told the staff on the kayaks around me: "I think I'm going to need a life jacket," which really meant, "I need a life jacket, stat!"
Someone grabbed the log I was holding for a moment so I could tread water, but then he gave it back and the same thing started to happen.
Eventually I was thrown a life jacket and made it to the other side—with a ton of difficulty.
When I finally got out of the lake I was really hurt. But I'm not talking about the hurt from physical exhaustion. My pride had been really, really hurt. I was basically the last one to make it across, and the only one to do so with a life jacket. I could barely even lift my head out of embarrassment.
Of course none of my brothers cared about how awful I performed, they just cheered me on as I made it to shore.
Up until this point I hadn't really faced any humbling or difficult lessons at TC, but now my pride was being shredded.
I started having flashbacks to when I was much younger—the times that I would fail in large groups, whether it was intellectually or physically. I remember that everyone would tell me that it was OK, OK that I didn't do well. As a little boy I didn't know how to handle all that attention and sympathy in the midst of failing, and I would often cry. Yikes. In that moment, surrounded by men, I could almost feel some of that old emotion inside.
No, I did not cry—and really, I don't consider myself very emotional. I find it interesting that when my pride was damaged as a little guy that it resulted in embarrassment and discreet tears, and after not being publicly embarrassed in such a way for many years, I now felt the same shame. I only bring up my youth in this way to show how hard I would take dealings with my pride—and how obviously it still stings even now.
Interestingly enough, just before this swimming challenge I had been assigned—along with 3 others—to be a temporary squad leader for our next challenge later in the day. My desire beforehand was to humbly lead and not put myself above the rest of the squad. Lets just say I think that hope to be humble was answered in a very extreme way as I swam for shore.
The rest of the day as I "helped lead" our squad through a camp out scenario, I was very quiet and only spoke when I felt like I needed to. A new perspective had fallen upon me: I am not that great. And that concept IS great, because He is great. That's a lot of gr8s, huh? This life is not about what I can do, it's about Him!
So where is there pride in your life? For me I thought, "hey I'm pretty athletic, I can do this, I don't need anybody's help." It can be difficult sometimes to pinpoint where it is that you have pride in your life because you're so used to it, but know that you will be humbled by Him—it's just a matter of when. So why not surrender that to Him now instead of leaving Him no other option other than trying to drown you? *obligatory smiley face*
Photos taken by Angela Graves and Kim Liette
